


Everything's Under Control

by shadowsong26



Series: Jedi of Valdemar [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: (nothing is under control), (spoiler alert:), (the title is a lie), ...also for those of you who are unfamiliar with valdemar, Gen, There is a lot of blood, and uhhh emergency medieval field surgery to deal with said blood, anyway, basically this is the bit where anakin loses his arm, because metal swords are not lightsabers, in this au ahsoka is a magic talking horse, so...yeah, welcome to the latest installment of shadowsong's niche crossover, which legit does make sense in context i promise, which uh is a slightly bigger problem in this au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16919370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsong26/pseuds/shadowsong26
Summary: The aftermath of Anakin's first encounter with Dooku, out on the Western Border.





	Everything's Under Control

Anakin fought desperately to stay conscious--he could feel every beat of his heart from somewhere below his right shoulder; feel his strength ebbing with every pulse, and Dooku was still _coming,_ and Ahsoka was still down, hadn’t fought past whatever was in the damned dart he’d hit her with; Anakin could feel her sluggishly screaming in the back of his head and he had to get up.

_Get up. Get_ up _he’s coming_ move.

He fumbled for his sword with his left hand, because his right was--was--

Involuntarily, he glanced down at it and his stomach rolled.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus. _Focus. Get the sword. Get your feet under you. He’s coming. He’s coming, you have to meet him. Focus. Come on. You can do it._

Finally, _finally,_ his fingers closed around the cool, rain-slick metal hilt. His pulse was still pounding in his ears, or maybe that was the thunder, but he thought--he thought--he _thought_ he heard footsteps, heavy footsteps, over the noise; Ahsoka’s Mindvoice was like a conversation in the next room, fading in and out and he didn’t know how much of that was the drug and how much of it was because everything felt like he was underwater and--

_Thunk._

That was--

That was an arrow?

Anakin blinked the rain out of his eyes, and the world sharpened for just a second; long enough for him to hear Dooku curse and hurried footsteps running away. And, yes, yes, there was a crossbow bolt buried in a tree above his head.

_:Anakin! Ani, Skyguy, Chosen, love, are you there,_ talk _to me--:_

_:I’m here,:_ he replied. _:I’m…m’here, ‘Soka, where--a-are you--:_

“Herald!”

He jerked a little, and turned his head; the world kept turning for a minute, then resolved on a young woman in Guard blue, clinging to a crossbow and staring down at him in horror.

“Herald, are you--”

“Go,” he said; his mouth felt thick and sluggish and his voice sounded strange and slurred. “Go--after him. I’ve got…got this. Under control.”

She looked uncertain, opened her mouth to argue.

“M-my Companion’s…she’s…sh-she’s coming, don’t l-let…don’ let’m get ’way…M’okay. S’unner…under control.”

It was. It had to be. He had--he had Healing Gift, didn’t he? Sure, it was barely there, it wouldn’t be enough to--

He _did not_ look at the--at the remnant again.

But all he had to do was stop the bleeding. Get the bleeding under control. That’s what he’d told the Guard, wasn’t it? That he had it under control.

The Guardswoman’s face swam a little, but she nodded reluctantly and pelted off down the ridge, presumably in the direction Dooku had gone.

He let his eyes drift closed again and took a breath, which came too fast and stuttering and shallow to actually _help,_ except that the act _itself_ seemed to center him a little better.

_Okay. Okay, find the worst of it, and--_

Like Breha had taught him forever ago, Anakin traced his senses down along the edge of his--of his arm, found the pulsing, spurting blood and pinched it shut and _held._

He could feel his mental hands slipping, so he squeezed tighter; trembling a little with the effort, but it…it…

It was holding. This time, it was holding. As long as he _kept_ it there; he was pretty sure if he let go the bleeding would start up again, but for now…for now…for now, it was under control. Just like he’d promised.

Who had he promised again?

_:Anakin.:_

“‘Soka,” he croaked, relieved.

She nuzzled his shoulder then came around in front of him and knelt down in the mud. _:Come on.:_

_Oh, thank the gods._ He wasn’t sure he could stand right now, which was vaguely hilarious and humiliating all at once, but Ahsoka was here and she seemed okay, except that she was bobbing and weaving just like the rest of this damn clearing, but he was pretty sure that was _his_ fault, not hers. She was here, and she was okay, and that was all that mattered.

He managed to drag himself over and into the saddle, mostly relying on his left hand since his knees were like jelly.

_:Straps,:_ she said.

“Yeah,” he said, and fumbled for them, laying his sword across his lap because he didn’t want to drop it. He might need it later, if Dooku circled back, or--

_:Anakin,:_ Ahsoka said. _:Anakin, stay with me, stay focused, okay?:_

“Yeah,” he said again, and shivered. It was a damn good thing these things were idiot-proof; but even with that, one-handed, he had trouble; they kept _blurring_ in the rain, and weaving in and out of each other whether he was manipulating them or not. “Okay. Okay. I’m...I’m good.”

_:Okay,:_ she said, then stood up very carefully before pelting off through the trees.

Anakin closed his eyes; watching the forest wing by them was making him nauseous; he considered passing out, he really wanted to pass out, but then he’d lose his grip on his arm, which--

Which was already slipping. He was losing it, he couldn’t feel it but he could _feel_ it.

_:Stop,:_ he said. _:’Soka--’Soka, Snips, stop. Stop!:_

_:Anakin,_ no, _we have to--we have to keep moving, you’re_ really _hurt, and--:_

_:I’m losing it,:_ he said. _:I can’t--I can’t--I have to--have to stop the bleeding._ Really _stop it, before I…:_

_:Oh,:_ she said, and slowed to a walk, before coming still. _:You can’t--?:_

_:Not strong enough.:_ He shivered again and risked opening his eyes.

It didn’t--actually hurt all that much? Which was probably a bad sign, honestly, _don’t think about that right now, just get it...deal with it._

The trees were pulsing in a very disconcerting, nauseating way, but Ahsoka was rock-steady underneath him, giving him a touchstone to reality.

_:Tourniquet?:_ she suggested.

He took a shaky breath, then glanced at the--at the remnant. Stump. His arm. What was--the rest of his arm.

_:I--I don’t think so,:_ he said. There was enough...left...for him to attach it, probably, but he’d never get it tight enough. Not as woozy as he was, not with only one hand, which was trembling. So unless whatever Dooku had drugged her with had made Ahsoka grow thumbs…

_:Helpful,:_ she noted. _:I’m sorry…:_

He sent her a wordless pulse of love, not wanting to waste energy on words right then, and reached out with his shaking left hand to pat her neck.

_...huh…_

He still had his sword.

Sword was metal.

And one of his _other_ Gifts was Firestarting.

_...this...this is going to_ hurt.

Ahsoka shifted a little under him, following the direction of his thoughts and _not_ liking them at all. _:You’ll do_ more _damage that way.:_

_:I know,:_ he said. _:I know, I know, but the bleeding...bleeding’s gotta stop, Snips.:_

_:I know,:_ she echoed. _:I know, I know.:_

_:Okay,:_ he said, and balanced the sword again as best he could and started to undo the straps keeping him in the saddle.

_:What are you doing.:_ It wasn’t a question.

_:I’m--there’s a good chance I’m gonna black out,:_ he said. _:I’ll drop the sword, it’ll be--:_

_:Let_ me _worry about that,:_ Ahsoka said. _:I can avoid it, if you do. What I_ can’t _do is get you back up here, or--or strap you in again, if you’re unconscious. And I am_ not _dragging you! Stay_ right where you are, _Chosen.:_

He didn’t like it, the idea of maybe _hurting_ her, but--but--

She was right.

_:Okay,:_ he said. _:Okay, okay. I’ll--I’m not moving.:_

_:Good.:_

He braced himself, tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword--it was slipping, and from more than just the rain this time; his hand didn’t like grasping it anymore; _move fast move fast move fast_ \--and reached for a spark.

He kept his eyes on the blade, watching as it started steaming, then smoking, then _glowing,_ turning red at the edges, the center…

_Now or never._

One more breath, then he shifted his grip on the red-hot blade again and pressed it against the stump.

He thought he heard himself scream, and then everything went black.


End file.
